He was better off dead, anyway
by HouseoftheBadger
Summary: Regulus' last moments in this world.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Marauders.**

 **Trigger warnings: death, living dead, kind of torture, drowning, slight mentions of abuse, suicide**

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The boat moved slowly over the water, the waves breaking against the prow. It was strange, almost peaceful in the dark cave. The darkness felt almost soothing for the man in the boat, despite it being almost an unnatural sort of dark, though the house elf seemed very upset. Under them dead bodies were floating, but the newly become Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black knew that there was nothing to fear from the dead. Not yet, at least. He did not have any doubts that his former Master had put them there for a reason. Still, he breathed smoothly and calmly, refusing to let himself sink into panic. He almost smiled as the island in the middle of the lake came closer. In some odd way, it was almost beautiful. And there was certainly something poetic over all this.

Regulus Arcturus Black II took another deep breath of the cold, fresh air. He was sure what would come would not be pleasant, but it was for the best, and at the moment he felt more at ease than he had done for years. There was worse ways to go.

When he had taken the Dark Mark he had been proud, because his parents had been proud of him, and he fully believed in the Cause. But as he had left Hogwarts after graduation he had realized that being a Death Eater wasn't for him. He had been terrified every moment out there, fighting for his life. Despite that he was in danger at all time, he was a _Black_. At the time he had been the Heir of the House of Black, and now he was the Head since Father had died two months prior. Doing field work was not for him, that was commoners' work. What you sent house elves and insignificant servants to do. He was wizarding royalty, and was not meant to be bothered with this. But his Master had ordered him to, and self-preservation and wish to not stick out had made him obey. After all, the Dark Lord, no, _Voldemort_ was the most powerful wizard of all time, perhaps with the exception of Dumbledore. Only a fool had refused him anything. And Regulus was no fool, in difference to his idiot ex-brother.

But then… when he was eighteen he had been a part of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, obviously, where else would a Black be? He had become a part of it as soon as he left school. And he had been appreciated for his intelligence but disdained because of his cowardliness, because he had no backbone. He knew it was true, but that meant that no one ever saw him as a threat despite him having a considerable magical ability – obviously, again, as he was a Black. He could go anywhere and no one would ever notice him, because "Little Regulus Black? He may be Heir/Head of the House of Black, but that boy has no backbone. No spirit. No fire. Just ignore him unless he talks to you first – then you best listen because he is backed up by the entire Black clan, including Bellatrix Lestrange. They're cousins". And being ignored had led him to finding out his Master's darkest secret, which had made Regulus furious. The Dark Lord – Voldemort, the _Heir of Slytherin_ , was nothing but a _filthy halfblood_ , much more obsessed with eternal life than purifying the world. A shame and smudge on the name of Salazar Slytherin. Regulus was sure that Salazar would rather see his blood disappear in history than having it contaminated with _muggle_. How _gross_. No, that man was no master of his. He was a Black. He was wizarding royalty, and Voldemort was nothing but an insane disgrace of everything he stood for.

So when he had asked his followers, including Regulus because he might be disgusted but he wasn't foolish enough to act on it, if someone had a house elf to borrow him Regulus had been quick to offer Kreacher, but not before giving the house elf strict orders to return to him and report _everything_. And it had been lucky he had done so, or otherwise the elf probably wouldn't have returned at all. When Kreacher did, Regulus had been furious. For the first time in his life, probably. He cared for Kreacher, he did – not loved, because it was beneath a Black to love a house elf, but he did feel fondness for the only being that had always been there for him through his entire life. But the thing that had made him truly raging was the fact that the _filthy halfblood_ had tried to steal from the _Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_. He might be the unpure Heir of Slytherin, but Regulus was the Head of the House of Black, and was way above him. His family had ruled the wizarding world for centuries. And now Voldemort had dared to try to steal from them. He had left Kreacher, a house elf belonging to _him_ , to die. To _die_. Regulus had _borrowed_ him the bloody elf, not given him to the disgrace. And not only that.

What Kreacher told him was outrageous. He already knew Voldemort was more interested in immortality than purifying wizardkind but this… he was ready to do _anything_ for it. Horcruxes… not even a Black would drabble with that area of the Dark Arts. And that said something, as they had used every other kind of Dark Magic through history. It was a Black who invented the Cruciatus Curse, for Merlin's sake!

But after the anger had disappeared Regulus was overthrown with fear. What was he supposed to do? This required decision making, and if there was one thing Regulus had never been good at, it was making decisions. He had always been a follower, doing what was expected of him. _Anything_ for a quiet life. As a small child he had followed Sirius, the traitor, and when Sirius had abandoned him for his new friends, his new _brothers_ , he had followed his parents. He had always done that, of course, but now they were the only ones he followed. He did what he was told and what they expected of him. At Hogwarts he had been a leader, sure, as a Black he was the king of Slytherin, but he had still followed Mother and Father. He told his peers what he was expected to tell them. He had had a form to function in. He knew what to expect and what to do. He didn't now. He had no idea what to do.

But after a few weeks he had made his decision. He was better off dead anyway. There was two things he knew for sure: one, he couldn't let this _halfblood_ rule the wizarding world, and the ancient pureblood families, like he was on his way to do. Two, he had no actual reason to stay alive. What did he have to live for, really? He had lost Sirius when he was ten-eleven, Kreacher… well, he wouldn't stay alive for the sake of a house elf, no matter how much he cared for him, and Mother would do fine without him. She had never really cared for him other than as an heir, despite him wanting to believe otherwise. And he would never get the life he wanted. If they lost the war, then he would go to Azkaban, if they won the war… well, he wouldn't want to serve a _halfblood_ anyway. So he was better off dead anyway.

So he would go off with a _bang_ , because if there was something _all_ Blacks had in common – proper members of the Family or bloodtraitors – it was a flair for dramatics. Regulus might appreciate the quiet life, but sometimes he was almost as dramatic as his ex-brother.

He had spent two hours composing and writing the note he had put in the fake locket, making sure there wasn't a single trace of fear on it. For once in his life he wasn't going be afraid. Or at least people would think he hadn't been afraid.

Regulus was happy he had taken the time to say goodbye to Sirius. He had been vague in what he was going to do, because he didn't want Sirius to storm in to try to save him and eventually go down instead or together with him. Or worse; actually save him. He didn't want to be saved. He was better off dead anyway. But it had been nice to see his brother one last time, despite the fact that Sirius had left him when he only was a small child, still depending on his older brother.

The small boat reached the island and woke the Black Head out of his thoughts. Careful not to touch the water he lifted his robes and stepped out of the boat, followed by Kreacher. In the middle of the small island a basin stood. It was filled with an emerald green potion. The colour of Slytherin, Regulus noticed with disdain.  
"Is this it, Kreacher?" He asked calmly. If there was one thing he was good at, it was keeping a straight face despite any feelings. And now he felt fear. He had to do this, he _wanted_ to do this, otherwise he would've made Kreacher drink it – the house elf would've gladly taken down the stars for him. Perhaps. He wasn't fully sure he would've had the heart to make Kreacher drink it again. His Mother and Father would've called it weakness. It probably was. Kreacher was a house elf, created to serve after all. But who knew? Perhaps he would've made Kreacher drink it, perhaps not. That didn't really matter now. He would. Kreacher would destroy the Locket. It was a shame that they had to destroy the last remaining relic of Salazar Slytherin, but he was sure Salazar would've wanted them to do what they could to stop his insane and dishonourable descendant.  
"Yes Master Regulus." Kreacher croaked, looking anxious. "This is it."

The black haired man nodded and dragged out his wand, conjuring a cup of pure silver. A Black family heirloom. Before putting it in the potion he turned to Kreacher and gave the elf his orders. He had spent hours phrasing them, making sure there wasn't a single loophole in them. Kreacher would not save him. He was to exchange the Locket to the fake one, go immediately back to 12 Grimmauld Place and destroy the Locket by any means necessary. And he was to make sure Regulus drank the potion, if he so had to force it down his throat. He would not listen to any orders of him to stop until the basin was empty.  
"Is that understood, Kreacher?" He said sternly, almost smiling as he looked at his elf. He couldn't help it, he did care about him. And he knew Kreacher adored him, even more than he adored his Mother, which didn't say a little. But then again, while Mother certainly had a certain fondness for the elf who had been with her during her whole life she didn't care as much as Regulus did. It had been Regulus who had been upset when Kreacher punished himself, not Mother. Not enough to do anything to stop it and risk his parents' wrath, but enough for Kreacher to know that he cared.  
"Understood, Master Regulus." The old elf looked very distressed but bowed in confirmation.

Swallowing his fear the Head of the House of Black lifted the cup again. Now Sirius soon was the last remaining Black, except Mother of course. The cousins all were women and had taken their husbands names when married, as expected. So unless Sirius had children – highly unlikely, he really wasn't the type unless it was accidental, and if he did have they still wouldn't be raised by centuries old traditions like they had been – the Black name would die. That was highly regretful, and _almost_ enough to make Regulus change his mind. But only almost. But at least the blood wouldn't die. Bella and Cissy would have children someday when the war was over, and Andromeda already had a child, though the girl was a halfblood. With that though, he lowered the cup into the potion and quickly raised it to his lips before he could think anything else, swallowing it and lowering the cup to take another mugful.

As the cup hit the surface of the emerald liquid pain raked through his body, almost enough to make him cry out. But he filled the cup again and drank it. And again. And again. Then the pain was almost overwhelming and he felt like he was dying in fever. He felt Kreacher force him to drink another cupful of it.  
"No!" He cried out as the pain became too much. "No, stop it! It's an order! Please make it stop!"  
"Oh, Master Regulus." The house elf's voice was pained as he forcefully lifted the cup to the man's lips once more, making him down it all. "Kreacher is so sorry. So sorry."  
"I-I ca-can't." He stuttered out, sobbing. "Make it stop. Make it stop! _Please_."  
He wasn't really conscious about anything but the pain anymore, and the low muttering voice assuring him, when he forced his lips together so he wouldn't have to drink, that if he only drank this it would stop. So he drank, and the pain became worse. After a little while he was begging someone, anyone, to kill him and take the pain away. It was too much. He couldn't handle this. And he was better off dead anyway.

"One last cup, Master Regulus, Kreacher promises." The voice said finally. "And then it's over. Drink one last cup and then Master Regulus doesn't have to drink anymore."  
Regulus drank and fell to the ground, completely exhausted. He felt himself black out.

The next thing he knew was how slimy hands grabbed him, dragging him down the island toward the icy lake. He heard Kreacher's sobs in the distance and knew that his orders really had been free of loopholes as a _crack_ was heard as the elf disappeared. Smiling slightly, because now everything would be over, he forced his eyes open and saw the dead bodies he had seen earlier come up from the lake. Inferi. Of course. They grabbed him and he was too weak to fight back. Not that he would even if he could. He felt the cold water surround him as he was dragged into it. Not having bothered with taking a deep breath before being dragged under the surface his air soon ran out, but he didn't breathe. His body wouldn't allow him to breathe in water, so he kept his mouth shut. His whole body was screaming for oxygen, and it _hurt_ something incredible, but Regulus didn't care. He had felt worse pain during punishments as a child. Had he been able to handle that, he could handle this. Looking up he saw the light of the surface disappear until all that existed was cold water and the Inferi.

It was strange, but for the first time for years, and for once in his life as it wasn't often he didn't feel any form of fear, he wasn't afraid. Smiling Regulus didn't fight the Inferi as his vision began to blacken and he knew he was about to pass out. "So this is drowning. I'm about to die." was his last though, and it was peaceful, before his body finally couldn't hold its breath anymore and he opened his mouth, breathing in water. The cold liquid filled his lungs. They screamed. For the first time the pain became worse than something he had felt before, even when having a torture curse put on him. He had never been exposed to the Cruciatus, though, perhaps that was worse. He wanted to scream, but only breathed in more water.

As his whole body was filled with liquid he felt how he floated into unconsciousness. He felt relief when it happened and was soon surrounded by a pleasant void. All the pain disappeared and he knew that he was dying. Well, he was better off dead anyway.

As Regulus' body hit the bottom of the lake in the Cave his last consciousness left and soon he knew no more about his sobbing house elf desperately trying to destroy Slytherin's Locket without success, his Mother who would mourn her last son – mostly her last heir, but she had been fond of her son and mourned him, his older brother who would scream about how stupid his baby brother was to hide his sorrow when he got a letter from the Ministry of Magic informing him about Regulus' death and how someone else than Voldemort years later would figure out who R.A.B was and what he had done, ensuring Regulus' suicide hadn't been completely in vain.

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 **Review! :)**

 **Also, yes, suicide. Because Regulus' death was suicide. He could have survived if he had wanted to, by having Kreacher apparating them both out of there.**

 **I read a lot theories and such about Regulus' yesterday night and re-evaluated my portrayal of him. I've changed my mind a little bit about his personality, which is going to be seen in my fics from now on when he is in them. I hope you don't mind. I like this Regulus better, anyway. He's also more likely to be similiar to canon!Regulus.  
**

 **Well, now I am going down to eat shrimps and watch a film with my mum. She has decided we'll have a girl-night as my brother and dad isn't home. I didn't have any say in it... well, I'm sure it'll be fun. :) And shrimps is always tasty. I love shellfish. Except clams.**

 **Au revoir!**

 **Edit: I've changed the title, if that confused anyone.**


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